MTLNOVEL Chapter 15: MATCH.
The court was tense, a battlefield before the war. The match against Anhua High School hadn't even begun, yet the energy in the air was thick with hostility.
The audience—what little there was of it—had already started ditching them. Those who remained weren't exactly offering their support either. Banners fluttered in the stands, bold letters spelling out:
"BLACKTHORN ACADEMY WILL LOSE. LOSERS."
Hua Rong sighed, trying not to let the blatant insult get under her skin. But it was difficult when even her own team looked like they were mentally preparing for execution rather than a game.
On the other side, the Anhua High players stood tall, smirking as they exchanged amused glances. One of them, a boy with sharp features and an overconfident stance, stepped forward. His eyes landed on Hua Rong, widening slightly
"A girl?" he muttered before chuckling and turning to his teammates. "This is a first."
His tone wasn't outright mocking, but there was something in the way he said it that made Hua Rong bristle. Still, she forced herself to stay calm.
He extended a hand. "Mo Zixuan."
There was a brief pause before Hua Rong hesitantly reached out to shake it. Just as their hands were about to meet, something cold was pressed into her palm instead.
"Your cold coffee," a familiar voice said smoothly.
Xu Lingwei.
Already sipping from his own cup, he barely spared Mo Zixuan a glance before turning to Hua Rong as if she was the only one who mattered. Mo Zixuan, seeing his hand left hanging, pulled it back awkwardly.
Mo Zixuan tilted his head. "Yeah?"
Xu Lingwei let out a scoff. "Don't even think about underestimating her just because she's a girl."
Hua Rong blinked, caught off guard.
Before she could even feel a sliver of appreciation, Xu Lingwei ruined it.
"Although…" He took another lazy sip of his coffee. "She can't even dribble properly, let alone play. She completely sucks at this."
Hua Rong shot him a glare so sharp it could cut steel. Without hesitation, she stomped on his foot.
Xu Lingwei stumbled back with a sharp inhale, his face twisting in pain. "Hua Rong!"
A loud beep echoed from the small device on her wrist.
Her points dropped.
"What?!" she snapped.
Xu Lingwei, still wincing, pointed at her wrist. "We're outside the academy, genius."
Hua Rong groaned. She hated this stupid system.
Meanwhile, Mo Zixuan, clearly unimpressed, was already walking away, muttering something under his breath.
Xu Lingwei, unfazed, leaned closer from behind. "By the way…" His voice was smooth, teasing. "How's the coffee?"
Hua Rong took a sip, still seething.
"Bitter," she said flatly. Then, narrowing her eyes, she added, "I like my coffee sweeter."
Nearby, Han Xingyun and Lin Zeyan watched in absolute disbelief.
A storm of tension surrounded them, the court buzzing with rivalry, the banners screaming their inevitable loss—and these two were casually drinking coffee in the middle of it.
Han Xingyun nudges Lin Zeyan. "Are they for real?"
Lin Zeyan exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I have no idea, but at this rate, we should just order some popcorn and watch."
...
The court was alive with noise, the air buzzing with anticipation. The 12-minute countdown flashed on the scoreboard, looming over them like a warning.
The moment the referee blew the whistle, Zinchen Liu took possession, his movements quick and sharp.
Then, he passed the ball to Wuhao Li.
Hua Rong tensed. That guy? Really?
Wuhao Li was not tired—he just didn't care. He was the type to exert the bare minimum effort, always moving just enough to avoid looking like dead weight, but never pushing himself.
As expected, Wuhao barely held onto the ball for two seconds before an Anhua High player—No. 8—snatched it away like taking candy from a distracted child.
Hua Rong lunged to intercept, but the ball was already moving too fast, passed down the court before she could even close the distance.
Player No. 8 sprinted forward, then smoothly handed it off to another teammate.
The play was clean.
Too clean.
But then—
A sudden blur of motion.
Xu Lingwei.
He intercepted the pass in midair, landing smoothly before pivoting on his heel and racing down the court toward the net.
Hua Rong's heart pounded. Finally, a chance.
Xu Lingwei leaped, aimed—
And missed.
The ball bounced off the rim and landed directly in the hands of the opposing captain, Player No. 1.
"Oops," Xu Lingwei muttered, unfazed.
Before anyone could react, Anhua's captain bolted forward, weaving through Blackthorn's broken defense like he was gliding through practice cones.
A perfect shot.
1-0.
The match restarted.
This time, Player No. 5 from Anhua High controlled the ball. Dribbling with precision, he maneuvered through the court, dodging half-hearted defense from Blackthorn players.
Chen Zhaoyang stepped in.
Finally, someone tried to stop them.
He lunged—and managed to grab the ball.
For half a second.
Then it slipped right out of his hands, rolling cleanly back into Anhua's possession.
Another point lost.
2-0.
Hua Rong gritted her teeth.
And that was just the beginning.
The Frustration Builds
Point after point.
Third.Fourth.Sixth.Tenth.
Anhua High was steamrolling them.
Hua Rong?
She hadn't even touched the ball.
And it wasn't just bad luck.
It was deliberate.
Every time a teammate grabbed the ball, they passed to anyone but her.
Even when she was wide open.
Even when it would have been the smartest play.
She wasn't just being ignored—she was being erased.
On the sidelines, Mo Zixuan watched the disaster unfold, arms crossed in amusement.
Then, as if reading her thoughts, he spoke.
"Seems like your own teammates don't even acknowledge you exist," he mused, stepping closer. His smirk deepened. "Not even a single pass. And here I was hoping to see just how terrible you are."
Hua Rong didn't respond, her nails digging into her palms.
She didn't need him to point it out.
She could see it.
Twelve minutes.Zero points.Two minutes left.
Was this it? Were they just going to go down without scoring once?
The whistle blew again.
The Final Two Minutes
Hua Rong took her position.
The ball was in play.
Anhua High players moved effortlessly, passing the ball between each other with perfect coordination.
Blackthorn?
Still a mess.
Hua Rong trailed behind Player No. 7, sticking close but keeping her steps light.
None of them even noticed she was there.
Good.
The moment No. 7 turned his body for a pass, she lunged.
Her hands shot out—
And snatched the ball cleanly from his grip.
The entire court went silent.
For the first time in the entire game, Hua Rong had possession.
Even her own teammates stared at her, stunned.
As if she had materialized out of thin air.
She didn't hesitate.
Ball in her hands, she sprinted forward.
Lin Zeyan stood near the net, his stance exhausted, like he had already given up.
No time to second-guess.
"Lin Zeyan!" Hua Rong yelled.
The distance was too much. The risk? Too high.
She took it anyway.
She launched the ball with everything she had.
It soared through the air—
Lin Zeyan's eyes widened.
He caught it.
He turned. He shot.
The ball went in.
The moment the net swayed, adrenaline surged through Hua Rong's veins.
She barely had time to react before she found herself running toward Lin Zeyan, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"You did it! We did it!"
A rare grin broke across his face. "Yeah!"
The crowd murmured in shock.
Then, they both turned to the scoreboard.
One.
Blackthorn's first and only point.
The buzzer rang. Time was up.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the air.
Xu Wenhan.
The cold, unreadable captain finally spoke.
"Only one point." His voice was like ice. He stared at Hua Rong, then at Lin Zeyan, as if unimpressed.
He took a step forward, arms crossed.
"And you're that happy?"
Hua Rong didn't flinch. Instead, she walked past him with a smirk.
"Still better than nothing."
And for the first time since the match started—
She felt like she actually existed.
"You did it—Hua Rong!" Xu Lingwei said with a grin, his voice warm with pride.
For a fleeting second, Hua Rong almost smiled back at him. Almost.
But then, as if catching herself, she quickly turned away, brushing past him without a word, already focused on the next play.
Still, Xu Lingwei felt something stir within him.
It wasn't the usual sharp, unreadable look she always wore.
It was something else.
Because in that brief moment, before she turned away—he had seen it.
That glimmer.
The same fire she used to have.
And somehow, that small glimpse was enough to make his smile grow just a little wider.